every day is mechanical,
their feet hit the ground, in different directions
he goes there and she goes there,
now, not much more than strangers
who used to know each other
going through the motions in lockstep till it’s habit,
like memorizing mathematics,
multiplying and dividing,
adding and subtracting,
without deviation from the rules,
rust flakes like tears falling to the floor
she sweeps them under the rug
he pretends to not notice and they go on their merry way
step by step by rote
AUTHORS NOTE: Ok so here’s the deal; Persephone (yeah, that one)doesn’t have many friends since she married Hades. Not a lot of ‘BFF’ potential when you spend most of your time living in the bowels of Hell and all that. Thelxiepeia is a Siren and Persephone’s best friend and confidante. Due to their circumstances (more on that later, bits and pieces my lovelies, bits and pieces) the bulk of their interactions are through letters, good old fashioned hand written letters. Oh, there is internet in Hell but Persephone doesn’t trust Hades enough to send personal letters electronically, he has a habit of snooping through her email. Saying anymore would be telling not showing (or is it the other way around?) so please to enjoy one of the many letters Seff wrote to Thellie, more to follow after I, rather Persephone, writes them.
I’m finally home.
It seems like forever since I’ve been above ground.
After spending so much time wandering along the River Styx it feels wonderful being able to stretch my legs against the beautiful backdrop of the Atlantic Ocean.
Hades fought me tooth and nail this time.
He didn’t want me to leave at all.
“We’ll never work things out if you keep leaving me” has become his mantra.
Working things out is the last thing on my mind these days Thellie, and oddly, I don’t care.
So much time has been wasted trying to make something of this farce of a marriage yet the only one trying has been me.
I’ve just about run out of patience.
We had another argument as I was leaving, this is nothing new of course but there was something different about this one.
Where I usually find myself yelling loud enough to frighten even the Reaper himself, this time I was deadly quiet.
I gave him nothing.
Hades did his best to bait me but I refused to bite.
He even went so far as to accuse me of taking a lover.
A year ago I would have gotten my back up at his insinuating I was unfaithful knowing that unfaithfulness is one of his specialties.
Now when I hear these words it just makes me wonder why I haven’t taken a lover.
I’m being hung for a crime I never committed dear friend but if the truth be known, I wish he was right.
I’m so lonely Thellie.
Hades does nothing to ease my loneliness, in fact he does everything he can to keep me isolated.
He’s been hiding most of my correspondence too.
I found a box full of letters addressed to me hidden away in his safe when I opened it to put away some of my jewels.
Hades has gone too far this time.
PS: I can’t wait to see you, we have much to talk about, things that are best said face to face rather than on paper. I’m hoping that will be enough to lure you here as soon as possible, I did learn a few lessons from you after all sweet Siren xx
It was nearly impossible.
It was hard enough trying to come up with a perfect phrase or a snarky comment on a good day.
Just some words strung together in the right order perhaps, but a baby’s breath whisper of her soul went into every word she wrote him.
It flowed out of her with or without her permission and she’d end up naked and exposed on a piece of paper or the soon-to-be-not-blank screen of her laptop.
He was her sanity in a world gone mad.
Her few precious minutes alone, when she could put herself onto the page and be taken away.
That was the glue that held her together.
So that she could be the glue that held everyone else’s lives together.
It was easy when she had silence and calm and her cat Drusilla curled at her feet.
That’s when her thoughts came fast and furious. Sometimes it seemed as if her fingers could barely keep up with her mind.
She turned into a wordsmith and was happy and alive and smiling.
And she sat down to write.
Tonight, it was impossible.
She was good at tuning noise out but when she heard the footsteps on the stairs and saw her husband lurching toward the bed, the unmistakable stench of rum surrounding him as he tried to walk straight, she knew what was in store for her.
She also knew concentrating on which words to use while trying to evade the groping sloppy-drunk man, once the boy she married many years ago, was impossible.
She sighed and closed her laptop which led to a fight which he forgot about 10 minutes later when he began again to grope her and prod her.
She gave in. And hated herself a little bit more for it.
He fell asleep. Snoring loudly of course..
She went back to answering her last note from someone else’s husband.